I’m currently 50 years of age, with 3 daughters—one in her early 20’s, a 2-year-old, and a 5-month-old. The little ones aren’t the result of “accidents”, nor a means of staving off a midlife crisis by introducing babies into middle age—that would be a terrible idea. Initially they’re cheaper than a convertible or a Harley, I suppose, but not for long. No, these little…blessings, and they are, are the result of a second relationship, having met the yin to my yang, who is 23 years younger than me. It turns out that puts me in the May-December club as well. That’s far from a good thing—if you’ve ever peeked into that, and I have, through a phase of sheer panic and questioning life choices, wow, what a sideshow. I mean, I actually found it uncomfortable— “My Mr May, 42 years my senior, is adorable; the love of my life. We do it twice a day, on most days…”. It’s far more nauseating. Be that as it may, I’m unknowingly part of it. WAS unknowingly part of it—now that I am aware of it, it turns out I’m inadvertently hoisting the flag and chanting the anthem. I’m sure they have one.
And so, at 50 years of age, I find myself navigating through life and learning to deal with where my choices and decisions have taken me. It takes little reflection to imagine how great it could be if some aspects and circumstances of my life were a different—if difficulties with attention and focus as a kid where identified and managed, if I’d been able to do better at school, become more self-confident, sooner, if I’d made different career choices, life could be very different. Though, if I had access to a time-machine, I wouldn’t go back and change a thing. I always considered that if you could change the past, you risk changing yourself, and those around you—if changing anything jeopardised being right here with my partner and all of my kids as they are, and who they are, then no thanks. Perhaps things could be better. Things could certainly be so much worse.
Learning to cope with an incredibly bright, but easily frustrated, tantrum-throwing 2-year-old is difficult and brings to light many of my shortcomings and, I have to say, I need to do better. Be better. I’m not sure how, exactly, I’m going to do that but, I suppose, this is a part of my process as I contemplate strategies on how to become a better Dad, a better partner, a better version of myself in general. It’s not too late and I’m not too old to improve, to do more, to reinvent myself, to challenge myself, because, what else is there? What other purpose is there for me in life other than to aspire to do and be better. I have a great opportunity to inspire my kids and help them develop into self-confident, resilient humans. And for my older daughter, who I failed to do that for, probably through being overprotective, well, perhaps I can show that it’s never too late for making positive change and aspiring to be more.
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